These Tides that Change
by Superkoi
Summary: After their post-high school breakup, Kurt was certain he would never see Blaine Anderson again. But life has a funny way of changing the tides of destiny. Slight AU, Klaine.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: It's been a long, whirlwind of a year for me. My first year of college is almost over and summer break is only 3 weeks away! Which means I'll probably start writing again. It's hard to keep up a definitive schedule during the school year. This is just a story that's been circulating through my mind ever since all the graduation talk for Glee. I have an idea of where I want this story to go, but, knowing me, it's likely to change along the way. Enjoy!**

**These Tides that Change: Chapter 1**

Looking back, I wouldn't have changed a single thing.

I'm sure a lot of people have regrets about high school—and why wouldn't they? I'm sure the number of people who did stupid stuff in high school far surpasses the number of people who had a good head on their shoulders. Not that I didn't do anything stupid—on the contrary, in fact. I'm just a firm believer in the fact that mistakes make us who we are today. That being said, there really isn't too much I can complain about.

I was loved in high school. Isn't that exactly what every teenager wants? To be loved? To know that they are worthy of somebody's affection? To know that there is somebody in the world who wants to give them everything? Well, let me tell you—that desire never fades. The only difference is that you're older and hormones are not the sole instigator for almost all relationships. Adults are more logical, which makes our perilous journey toward love even more treacherous.

In college, I used to laugh at high school. I would remember all the fights I had, the heartache, the tears, the joy, the stress—it all seemed so trivial. And it is. Undoubtedly. But as soon as I got my college degree and Real Life was standing before me like the fiery gates of Hell, I wasn't laughing anymore. In fact, I craved for those reckless days when even the most insignificant events seemed like the end of the world. When it felt like I had everything figured out—the world in my hands—just because I had no clue what lied ahead. It was fun. It was carefree. It was youth.

Don't worry—I'm really not _that_ cynical. I'm 22 years old—still in my prime—and just got offered to intern at New York's best up and coming fashion magazine. Who cares if I can't make a relationship work for more than a few months and have relentlessly endured some of the worst dates known to man? That's nothing to be cynical about, really.

It's just life.

* * *

The coffee is better in New York. I would even be so bold as to say that _everything_ is better in New York, but particularly the coffee. I was hesitant to leave behind the good and faithful Lima Bean in Ohio, but if a minor shift in my coffee location was the price to pay for living in the city, I was more than willing to oblige.

I sat down at my usual table with my usual grande non-fat mocha like I did every Tuesday morning. I barely managed to take a sip before I was joined by my usual companion.

"I have exciting news for you," She beamed, cradling her chai tea with both hands as she took the seat across from me.

Enter Rachel Berry, my best friend and partner in crime in almost every endeavor we share. Not much has changed about her since high school except her heinous sense of style. After much convincing, she allowed me to do a complete remodeling of her wardrobe before we moved to the city together. I told her that I simply couldn't be seen with a girl in tights and animal sweaters while roaming the streets of New York.

Rachel and I both started out attending NYADA after high school. It was exactly what we both had always dreamed of-musical theatre 24/7. The kids were friendly, the classes were challenging, but somewhere along the line I had a change of heart. I'm sure it had something to do with the fact that my eyes were opened to the severe limitations that sadly befall countertenors in the world of Broadway. Regardless, I transferred to NYU after my freshman year to study Fashion Design.

Rachel, on the other hand, remained at NYADA, but not for long. Halfway through her junior year, she was chosen to participate in a reading for a new Broadway show called _Wild Child_. She nailed the performance, the show got picked up for production and the rest, as they say, is history. Rachel dropped out of school a month later and has been working ever since.

The look on Rachel's face was just entirely too smug and satisfied. I placed my mocha down calmly and gave her my best bitch-stare. "Rachel Berry, I swear on my entire collection of Gucci cufflinks, if you've set me up on another ridiculous blind date..."

I knew by the glimmer in her eye that I was right. Lately, Rachel has gotten into the nasty habit of circulating my name (quite unwillingly) throughout the dating circuit. I've gone on at least one date for the past few weekends, all of which had ended in disaster. Or disinterest. Rachel's eyes turned pleading in an instant and she gripped her tea eagerly. "Oh, Kurt, Ted is really nice! He's in the show with me."

"I don't care if he's the King of Scotland," I told her pointedly. "Your little game of matchmaker hasn't left me with much success."

Rachel sighed sharply. "You know, you do this with every single guy I try to set you up with."

"Perhaps that's a sign that you should stop setting me up," I roll my eyes. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with having high standards."

"What about Greg?" She challenges.

My eyes narrow. "What about him?"

"What was wrong with him?"

"His last name was Cummings," I explain detestably.

Rachel's brow furrowed. "So?"

"If we got married, my name could possibly be Kurt Cummings," My lips search for another sip of mocha. "That just sounds wrong."

"And Davis?"

I shrug. "Davis was nice..."

"But?" Rachel prompted, annoyed.

"We had nothing in common," I determine, earning me an incredulous look from Rachel.

"He was an actor, Kurt!" She insisted enthusiastically. "I'm sure you two could have discussed musical theatre for hours."

This time, I heave a sigh and stare aimlessly at my coffee cup. "I don't understand why you can't grasp that I'm not interested in dating right now. I have my career to think about-"

"That's the oldest excuse in the book," Rachel interjected.

But I continued; only slightly miffed. "We can't all get our dream job straight out of college-not even. I don't want to be an intern for the rest of my miserable existence."

Rachel's expression softened and her head tilted to the side like it always did when she backed down from an argument. I could feel her chocolate eyes boring a hole in the middle of my face, but I was determined to keep my gaze fixed downward. I didn't want her pity. "Oh, Kurt... You shouldn't give up on yourself. You won't be an intern forever-you just need to show them how amazing you are."

I pursed my lips doubtfully, but Rachel was having none of that.

"Have you shown them your portfolio yet?" She wondered after another sip of chai tea.

I laughed-most likely a nervous reaction-and flashed Rachel what I'm sure was a very demented and disbelieving smile. "Rachel, please. This is a fashion magazine, not show and tell."

"Your designs are good, Kurt," She leaned her elbows on the tabletop and finally managed to catch my fleeting gaze. "But they're never going to amount to anything unless you show somebody-"

"Another time, perhaps," I interrupt, waving the issue off with my hand. "Someday when I'm _not_ belittled to the measly task of coffee runs."

Rachel cracked a smile and leaned back into her seat again with her tea. We changed the subject and chatted a bit longer before the clock told me it was time to head off to work. I gave Rachel a quick kiss on the cheek and walked the nine blocks to Exquisite Fashion Magazine headquarters.

* * *

I consider myself extremely fortunate for getting this internship position immediately after I graduated from NYU, despite how much I complain about it. A professor of mine knew someone on the managing team and recommended me very highly for the position. I like to think that it was my charm and impeccable fashion sense that landed me the job, but I'm no fool. Like many industries, it's all about whom you know.

"Morning, sunshine," I'm greeted by my co-worker almost immediately after I stroll through the front door. Enter Lucas Kitt. He never fails to greet me every morning with a dashing smile and a suave head nod. Some days it's a wink. Either way, his flirtatious advances always seem to be present, which usually results in me half-joking about reporting him for sexual harassment in the workplace.

"Lucas," I reply with as much enthusiasm as I could muster on a Tuesday morning. I settle myself down at my makeshift desk all while trying to ignore Lucas' blatant staring from over the cubicle wall.

"Are you busy toni-"

"I have plans," I blurt out without really meaning to. I glance up at Lucas and offer him my best apologetic grin. "With my... roommate."

Lucas is nodding now, but I have a feeling that he didn't buy my lie for a second. And for good reason. My lying skills have always been horrendous.

"Maybe next time," He suggests while I nod with feigned hopefulness. The only hope I have for him is that he takes a hint one of these days. My stunning act of sympathy is interrupted by one of my managers walking by, a pencil tucked behind her ear and her nose stuck in the air.

"Intern, get the coffees," She says without so much as a glance. Two months at this place and I'm still the nameless intern. Great. I sigh and shuffle around for my bag, hoisting it over my shoulder and heading back out the doors.

* * *

Coffee runs are like a way of life for me now. I know everyone's order by heart and I've mastered the skill of balancing four coffees in a carrier down the bustling New York streets. I suppose I don't mind it much. If there's one thing I know a lot about, it's coffee. I make my way into the 5th Avenue Starbucks and approach the barista who I'm fairly certain knows me by name at this point. The coffees are prepared to perfection and placed in a carrier, but while I'm stocking up on sugar packets and individual creamers, something-_someone_, rather-catches my eye and leaves me completely stunned in place for a good minute or so.

Enter Blaine Anderson. Just as energized, youthful, and dreamy as I remember him in high school. We were in love-so in love. Honestly, he was one of the only things that made my later teenaged years bearable. He was my rock-my foundation, my biggest supporter, my everything. I was fully prepared to spend the rest of my life with this boy.

And then I let him go.

Life changed drastically during my freshman year of college-so did our relationship. I hopped on the plane to New York with every intention of keeping him in my life, but, as I quickly learned, life has a funny way of doing things on its own accord. The first few months weren't horrible. We chatted on the phone every evening, scheduled regular Skype dates, and texted every moment we could. For a little while, it seemed normal-like maybe it wouldn't be so difficult after all.

Some time after Christmas is when I could feel it falling apart. I got into the habit of silencing his phone calls because I didn't have the time to talk. I cancelled Skype dates almost every week because I had to meet with my study group. It just became too much... Catching up with Blaine started to feel more like an obligation rather than something I looked forward to. So after a week of internal conflict and one long, tearful phone call later, I was single again. We haven't spoken since that day.

And now here he stands with coffee in one hand, Blackberry in the other and-good god-when did he start ungelling his hair?

I needed to leave. Not only was I still holding a drink carrier with about four steaming lattes that needed to be delivered, I wasn't exactly fully briefed on the proper protocol for greeting your ex-high school sweetheart after not having spoken for about four years. And I wasn't interested in finding out. I turned on my heel and quickly headed across the coffee shop, avoiding eye contact with anyone who passed me along the way. I was nearly to the door when I heard his voice.

"Not even a hello after all this time?"

I felt my face burn red and my heart palpitate inside my chest before I even turned around. I could sense the trace of a smile in his voice and I didn't even want to _think_ about how adorable he looks when he smiles... I couldn't very well stand here like an unresponsive idiot after I was addressed so plainly, so I spun around and laid my eyes on Blaine Anderson once again.

He looked older. Not _old_, just... mature. The sharp angles of his jawline were even more defined, and his lips remained plump, full, and ever grinning. He had finally stopped gelling his hair-I idly wondered what had made him give in-and it now curled freely in a perfect state of disarray. He still stood a few inches too short, and his style has changed slightly, I noted. He wore a mustard colored cardigan over a gray v-neck with jeans that were actually the proper length. And I would bet money on the fact that those were the same oxfords he wore all throughout high school. Then there were his eyes. The same honey color I grew to love so much, but twinkling with newfound maturity and experience.

"Um... hello," I muttered, eternally grateful that I was holding a carrier full of coffee to eliminate the awkwardness of deciding how to greet him. Would a hug be in order? A handshake? Blaine seemed to sense my internal struggle and he chuckled to himself.

"I'd invite you to sit with me, but it looks like you're a little busy...?" Blaine's eyes darted to all the coffee I was carrying, the smirk never leaving his lips.

My mouth opened and closed while the words formulated inside my head. "Yes, well, I..." I'm a lowly intern who has been deemed as unworthy for anything better than coffee runs and managing the copier machine. "...I have a, um... meeting... to attend."

Blaine's eyebrow quirked suspiciously while I rambled. Lying was never my forte and being bullshitted was never Blaine's.

"Well, then," He took a sip from his drink and grinned brightly over the lid of his cup. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your... _meeting_."

I mumbled some sort of pathetic goodbye and hurried out of the coffee shop without a single glance back. It baffled me how two people who were once so close could suddenly become strangers. I used to know everything there was to know about Blaine Anderson... And now he's nothing more than an old acquaintance.

Yet still, after years apart and dozens of fond memories filed away, I found myself wanting to know everything about this boy all over again.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I really liked writing this chapter. The dialogue of Kurt and Blaine's conversation is actually the first thing I wrote for this story. It started out as just a drabble, but I then I wanted to expand on the story a little more. Anyway, some very interesting news is revealed in this chapter that sends Kurt and Blaine's rekindled friendship on a bumpy ride. Enjoy!**

** These Tides that Change: Chapter 2**

I wasn't sure if I was quite ready to tell Rachel about my awkward run-in at the coffee shop. Once Blaine and I broke up, she lost touch with him, too, and I don't think he's on the very best of terms with her-a best friend's typical duty toward an ex-boyfriend. But no matter how close-mouthed I remained when I came home that evening, Rachel could sense that something was wrong by the embarrassingly obvious way I kept getting lost in my thoughts, replaying the moment in the coffee shop over and over again.

In retrospect, I could have done things a bit differently. After all, this was my ex-boyfriend we're considering. Isn't that what everyone wishes for? To see their ex-boyfriend after so many years and prove to them how much more capable and successful you are without them? Instead, I was caught mumbling my way through conversation and cradling a carrier of lattes that basically screamed _intern_.

How pathetic.

"You're acting a little strange tonight, Kurt," Rachel announced plainly as she joined me on the sofa in our apartment.

Rachel and I's apartment. It's located in the Upper West Side and costs far more than anyone should ever have to pay for a place to live. It's lovely, though, and far more perfect than either of us could have ever imagined. I distinctly recall my hellhole of an apartment during freshman year. The plumbing barely worked and it constantly smelled like something died no matter how many cans of Fabreeze I invested in. After Rachel's career launched and I nailed down my internship, we decided to move somewhere more fitting for the divas we rightfully are.

"It's nothing," I told her, turning my attention back to the sketchpad that rested in my lap. "Stop worrying about me. Don't you have lines to memorize?"

Rachel pouted. "This is more important."

"My less-than-stellar love life is more important than opening night of a Broadway show?"

A gasp escaped Rachel's mouth, followed by some sort of high-pitched squeal while I simply rolled my eyes at my own stupidity for letting such a coveted piece of information unwillingly slip out.

"You met someone!" She was grinning like a fool and honestly appeared as if she may burst with excitement at any moment. Oh, how I hated her.

"Not exactly," I answered carefully. It wasn't exactly a lie. Technically, I've met Blaine before-I just happened to bump into him.

Rachel narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Kurt Hummel, when are you going to finally realize that you can't hide anything from me? You-"

"I ran into Blaine today,"

It fell silent. Too silent. The kind of silence that tugged relentlessly at your nerves until you were practically begging for something-anything-to be said. Luckily, with Rachel, I never had to wait very long.

"But," The expression that befell Rachel's face was a bit undetectable, caught somewhere between shock and confusion. "Where... what is he doing in New York?"

"Apparently getting coffee in the Starbucks on 5th Avenue," I shrugged and tapped my pencil gently on my forgotten sketchpad. "Honestly, I was a bit too shell-shocked to think to interrogate him."

Rachel blinked mindlessly before sinking back into the sofa cushion. "Wow... It's been-"

"Four years," I finished quietly, my voice sounding unnecessarily solemn. "I _know_."

More silence. I continued to tap quietly on my sketchpad while Rachel stared aimlessly at the sofa cushion below her.

"So," She finally spoke up cautiously as if her voice were too loud for the silence in the apartment. "Are you ever going to talk to him? Maybe you could find out the reason for him being here to distill your curiosity."

"You mean _your_ curiosity," I accused. I placed my pencil down on the coffee table in front of us and sighed, a hand reaching up to my temples. "I don't know... Perhaps if our paths ever cross again. Honestly, Rachel, I don't know why this would change anything. Sure, it'd be fun to catch up over coffee or lunch one day, but... We're still different people than we were back then. I'm going to treat him like I would any other acquaintance."

"Well, _I, _for one, have certainly missed him," Rachel butted in, loud and boisterous all over again. "I may just have to invite myself along on your little get-together."

A smirk tugged on my lips as I released a breath of laughter. "Of course you will."

* * *

My charade of indifference didn't last long at all. In fact, it hardly survived a whole 24 hours before my mind was plagued with dozens of questions: What _was_ Blaine doing in New York? To be honest, we completely lost touch after our breakup. I don't even know where he attended college, but I would assume I would have seen him around sooner if it had been somewhere in the city. On the other hand, it _is_ a large place and running into someone you know is more than a tad serendipitous.

Or perhaps... This is fate. Destiny or something of that sort. Perhaps this is the universe's way of telling me that Blaine and I have unfinished business. But that just seems illogical. Who am I kidding? If the universe wanted Blaine and I to be together, our paths would have crossed a long time ago. Besides, my life isn't a Meg Ryan movie. It's not even close.

However, my over analysis didn't stop me from wanting to know. It's all I could think about the next day at work so I requested an early lunch break and headed over to the 5th Avenue Starbucks. It was a stretch, thinking he'd be there again, but if there was one thing I remember about Blaine Anderson it's that the boy loves his coffee.

I stepped into the shop, glancing around and ever grateful that I wouldn't be caught this time with an inordinate amount of coffee in my hands. I removed my sunglasses and tucked them away in my bag to get a better look around. This wasn't my usual Starbucks so I didn't recognize many of the faces sitting around the store. There was a man by the window with an unnecessary amount of facial piercings, an older woman on her laptop, and, finally, a young man sitting by himself, sipping on a coffee and flipping through a magazine. A smile crept onto my lips upon seeing him. I suppose some reactions never change. I took a breath and walked up to his table from behind.

"Blaine Anderson," I greeted when I was finally within earshot. Blaine's head shot up so fast that his coffee nearly toppled over. He looked over his shoulder in time to see my eyebrow rise at his reaction and he speedily closed the magazine and slipped it into his bag.

"Kurt!" He replied enthusiastically, jumping to his feet. His lips seemed to be permanently turned upward into a grin. "Hi! You... Wow, you came back."

I shrugged my shoulders and allowed a few peals of breathless laughter escape my lips. "Well, I'm just taking a lunch break."

Blaine was shuffling a little uncomfortably from one foot to the other, but his wide, goofy smile still remained. I assumed that he was having a similar concern as myself-the greeting. I wasn't burdened with four steaming lattes this time around so we couldn't necessarily ignore the possibility of a hug. Yet there was something about a handshake that seemed offensively formal given our history. To put both of us out of our misery, I quickly slid my bag off my shoulder and walked toward the vacant seat across from him.

"May I...?"

"Yes! Of course. Yeah, please join me," Blaine was still on his feet when I settled into the chair. He was looking at me as if I'd just hung the moon, but I pretended to busy myself with taking my phone out of my pocket to avoid his insistent gaze.

"So how..."

"Do you..."

We both stopped and stuttered over our words awkwardly.

"I'm sorry,"

"No, no, I'm sorry,"

"What were you saying?"

"I was going to ask if you'd like anything to drink," Blaine motioned back toward the front counter.

I nodded. "Yes, that'd be lovely, but you don't have to-"

"It's fine, Kurt, it's on me," He removed his wallet from the pocket of his jeans, but paused before he walked away, grinning at me playfully. "Grande non-fat latte, right?"

A giggle escaped my mouth. "Close. Grande non-fat _mocha_. But still impressive."

Blaine wasn't gone for long and when he returned, he was holding two cups of coffee-one for me and a second for him, I assumed. I thanked him graciously for paying, but he waved it off with a nonchalant smile. Always the gentleman.

"No important meetings today?" He asked cheekily.

I struggled for words while trying to appear unfazed. "None, I'm afraid. I'm not nearly as important as I think I am."

"Oh, I find that hard to believe," He told me with a wink. "So what exactly are these meetings for?"

"My internship," I answered after taking a gulp of my mocha. "I'm working at Exquisite Fashion Magazine as a design and management intern."

Blaine looked surprised. "You're not performing anymore?"

I heaved a sigh that I'm sure spoke volumes. "I transferred after my first year at NYADA. Turns out that theatre was never my true calling. I studied fashion design at NYU."

"I knew it," Blaine hided his amusement behind his coffee cup. "You've always been extremely talented, but I always had a feeling you'd end up in fashion."

I shrugged again. "I suppose life is funny that way."

"Are you still living with Rachel?" Blaine wondered.

"Yes, we share an apartment,"

"And please tell me that _she's_ still performing,"

"Of course," I smiled. "In fact, she couldn't even wait until graduation. She got offered a role in a new Broadway show."

Blaine shook his head affectionately. "Typical Rachel."

"She hasn't changed much," I informed him. "Loud and dramatic as ever."

"Is she still dating Finn?" Blaine asked.

I nodded and finished swallowing before responding. "She is, indeed. Finn just graduated from U-Cal and now he's making plans to take over my dad's shop in Lima."

Blaine nodded appreciatively. "And what about your dad? How's he?"

I narrowed my eyes as the corner of my lip twitched upward gently. "You're nosier than I remember."

"Sorry," Blaine laughed heartily. "Philosophy major."

My eyes widened and I'm certain Blaine noticed the surprise etched all over my features. "I would not have guessed that," I tell him truthfully. "What do you even _do_ with a degree in Philosophy?"

"Pretend it means something and write music instead," Blaine offered.

That seems more like it. For as long as I'd known Blaine, music had always been his lifeline. He often told me that singing was the only way he knew how to truly express himself and-good god-the boy could sing. I had always assumed he'd pursue music in his future.

"You needed to pay for a college education to do that?" I ventured politely.

A sigh fell past Blaine's lips and, for the first time all afternoon, I watched his smile falter. "My parents did. A degree makes them think whatever I'm doing is more legitimate."

I nodded slowly. Blaine had always been on thin ice with his parents, it seemed. They've always had such high expectations for him, but they didn't always coincide with the dreams Blaine had planned. "And where did you earn this degree?"

"Duke University in North Carolina," Blaine answered as he aimlessly twirled his coffee cup in place.

"North Carolina," I repeated. "That's an awfully long journey from New York."

Blaine chuckled and I could have sworn it sounded a bit nervous. "Well, like you said, life is funny that way."

He reached for his cup and took a long swig of his drink while I studied his face carefully. Was he ashamed that he didn't have enough courage to stand up to his parents? I couldn't quite tell, to be honest.

"I suppose New York is a wonderful place to break out into the business," I supplied helpfully, hoping to take the focus off of his family. "There are agencies all over the city and record labels, too-"

"I'm engaged,"

It was a good thing I was sitting down because as soon as those words left Blaine's mouth, I could feel the room spinning. All I could do was blink and stare and let my jaw drop open gracelessly.

"To... be married?" I squeaked out, my mocha forgotten. Blaine nodded with a smile and guzzled more coffee down his throat while I took a moment to gather my wits-unsuccessfully, of course.

It wasn't that I was surprised-not really. Blaine is a sweet, attractive, and wonderful man who would make anyone happy to spend his or her life with. And I knew we had both moved on. I knew that years ago. Out of all the possible scenarios that I contemplated in my mind, this one was certainly unexpected. Blaine was just so young... I wasn't even aware he was seeing anyone and his left hand looked strangely unadorned for an engaged man.

"Blaine," I muttered breathlessly. I let my lips curl upward into a supportive smile and-out of habit, I suppose-reached out a hand to cover one of Blaine's on top of the table. "That's wonderful. _Truly_. Congratulations."

Blaine seemed fixated on our hands, but finally looked up at me long enough to smile back. "Thank you, Kurt... Yeah. It's... sudden."

"What's his name?" I blurted out, retracting my hand to rest it over my heart. "How did you two meet? Tell me everything. You know I adore a good love story."

Blaine was laughing, which I presumed to be a good sign. At least it seemed as if his nerves were subsiding. "His name is Malory. We met at Duke during my sophomore year, his junior year. He's originally from New York and he moved back here after he graduated to take up a great job offer."

"And you're here visiting him?" I assumed.

"Actually," Blaine laughed and glanced out the window as if he were sharing some sort of private joke with himself. "I just moved here because I transferred to Columbia to finish up my senior year."

Blaine must've taken in my perplexed expression because he immediately started backtracking and explaining himself. "We knew we wanted to stay together for the long haul, but with him moving back to New York... I think he was worried. So it was either come with me and get married or goodbye."

My nose wrinkled in disdain even though I tried not to. "That's perhaps the most unromantic proposal story I've ever heard."

"It's really not like that," Blaine tried to reason. "He just wanted some stability-I don't blame him-some sort of guarantee that I wouldn't stray."

"You? Stray?" I raised a single, disbelieving eyebrow. "Does he even _know_ you?"

Blaine laughed. "That's what I said, too."

Our laughter mingled together and we shared smiles, but when the amusement dwindled down to nothing and we were left gazing happily into each other's eyes, I decided I had heard enough. I came for answers and I got them.

"I should probably go," I told him in a rush, reaching for my bag and standing from the table. Blaine immediately joined me and I assumed this was the moment of truth-to hug or not to hug. I didn't have much time to think about it before I could feel Blaine's strong arms wrap around me in an all-too familiar embrace.

I don't know why it took me so long to reciprocate the hug. It took me by surprise, I suppose. I was fully expecting a quick exchange of goodbyes to suffice, but Blaine had always been touchier than I am. Finally, my body responded and my arms found their way around his waist in an alarmingly powerful example of muscle memory.

"Is your number the same?" Blaine asked as he pulled away, his hands lingering on my shoulders before dropping them to his sides.

"Hm?" I responded daftly.

"Your phone number," He clarified with a hopeful smile. "It hasn't changed, has it?"

I blinked. "Oh... No. It's the same,"

"Good," Blaine rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down at the floor. "I'd like us to be friends, Kurt... I mean, if that's alright with you."

I blinked again. Poor Blaine was probably going to think that's all I know how to do now. "Yes, I'd like... I, well... It's alright with me, of course..."

"I've missed you,"

It was so sincere and, there he was, staring at me like I hung the moon again.

"I've missed you, too, Blaine," I replied with a smile.

"I'll call you soon. We should have dinner sometime. I'll bring Malory and you can bring Rachel," He stopped himself and shot me a slightly panicked and apologetic expression. "Unless you're seeing someone, too...?"

The corner of my mouth twitched. "Not at the moment."

"Right," Blaine was nodding quickly, hoping to oust some of the lingering awkwardness. "Okay, well, great. I'll see you around, Kurt."

"See you around,"

I left the Starbucks and headed down the street, taking peace in the fact that, for the first time in four years, I really would be seeing him around again.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This story has been fun to write so far! I hope you're all enjoying it! We finally meet Blaine's "mystery man" in this chapter. :P Enjoy!**

**These Tides that Change: Chapter 3**

"Married?" Rachel screeched unattractively as we made our way down the bustling city street. I knew telling her would be a bad idea, but there really was no way of keeping it a secret when she practically pinned me to the wall and demanded I tell her everything as soon as I mentioned our coffee outing.

"_Engaged_," I corrected. "Honestly, Rachel, does it surprise you? Blaine has always been-"

"Gorgeous?" She guessed with a smug smile.

My eyes rolled. "I was going to say committed."

Rachel still wore an expression of unadulterated shock, shaking her head slightly as if trying to grasp the reality of it all. I can't say that her reaction was unexpected. I, myself, was a bit taken aback upon hearing the news. But I was happy for Blaine. Clearly, he's had more luck in the relationship department than me since our breakup. I've always wanted what's best for him.

I stayed contently lost in my thoughts while Rachel kept prattling on about when she and Finn get engaged until we arrived at my building. Rachel turned around to face me and placed her hands forcefully on my shoulders, looking up to stare into my eyes with a determined expression. "Are you okay with this?"

I absently glanced at her hands. "Well, you look slightly terrifying."

"Not _this_," She swatted me on the arm. "I mean... Blaine."

My eyes widened for a mere moment as all of my emotions played out on my features-shock, confusion, contemplation and, finally, realization. "Rachel," I began calmly, removing her hands with my own. "It's been years... I don't-Honestly. I'm glad that he's happy."

She raises a skeptical eyebrow, but I merely grin at her until she gives in, says goodbye, and heads off to rehearsal. I, on the other hand, trudge inside the building.

* * *

My exhausted 'huff' as I sit down in my desk chair was not meant to draw any attention. Yet something tells me I could capture Lucas' attention by simply breathing. I settle my things out across my desk while his head of dark hair peered over the cubicle wall.

"Something wrong?" He questioned.

"Only the typical day-to-day mundaneness of office work," I grumble, not intending to sound so bitter. I never mean to take out my negative feelings on Lucas, but he always seems to be there when I'm most in need of an emotional punching bag. Besides, everyone knows I should be in the design room instead of a lowly intern.

Lucas bit his bottom lip unsurely. "We could take our lunch break together. It might help to talk to someone about it and I'm a great listener."

His coy wink probably had an undesirable effect on me considering how quickly I began racking my brain for excuses. "Oh, that sounds lovely, Lucas, but I'm afraid..."

I'm saved by the familiar tune of my ringtone softly singing from somewhere within the depths of my bag. I politely tell Lucas to give me a moment before I start searching for my cell phone. I answer it and scramble the device up to my ear before checking the caller ID. "Hello, Kurt Hummel speaking."

"Hello, Blaine Anderson calling," A voice practically sang through the earpiece. I was fairly certain my entire face went red at that point-for reasons I could not possibly begin to explain-so I turned around in my swivel chair to avoid Lucas' worried eyes.

"Blaine," I breathed out, my lips turning upward. "You called."

I heard his chuckle through the phone. "I told you I would."

"Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Dinner tonight. With me, Malory, you, and Rachel," Blaine said. "If you're both available, that is."

I did a mental check through my calendar. I got off of work at five, which was plenty of time to get ready for dinner. I wasn't sure about Rachel's rehearsal schedule, but something told me that she wouldn't want to miss this for the world. "I believe our schedules are clear. I'll have to call Rachel to make sure, though."

"Perfect!" I could hear Blaine grinning through the phone. "Meet us at 44th and 10th at seven?"

"We'll be there,"

"Great, see you tonight, Kurt,"

We both hung up and I swiveled back around without realizing I still had a foolishly wide grin spread across my face. Lucas was still leaning over the cubicle wall, staring me down as if I had just carved his heart out with a spoon.

Oh. Right. Lucas.

My smile fell instantly. "An old friend of mine... in town visiting..."

I should really stop trying to lie.

Lucas waved it off like the good sport he always is. "I understand."

He ducked back behind the cubicle wall and I didn't hear a peep from him for the rest of the day.

* * *

"Prada," Rachel stated to me plainly that evening in our apartment. She stood proudly in the threshold of my bedroom door while I paused to look at her, hairspray poised and ready to gently mist my hair.

I glanced over her outfit. "No, Nordstrom Rack."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Prada is your safe word."

"My safe word...?"

"For tonight," She continued to explain. "If things start getting awkward for you or if you can't handle it..."

My groan of frustration cut her off. "Rachel, honestly, tonight is going to be fine," I placed my hairspray down with a thud. "We're just friends catching up after high school, no harm done."

It sounded convincing enough, but even I knew better than to believe the words that come out of my mouth sometimes. How could it be _no harm done_ with the history Blaine and I share? Tonight I would be meeting the man Blaine is going to marry.

And it won't be me.

Rachel gave an exasperated sigh as she fled my room, mumbling something about Prada still being the safe word. I picked up my hairspray again and applied a generous amount before standing in front of my full-length mirror to examine my entire outfit. My shirt was tucked into my favorite pair of jeans and my tie rested neatly down the front of my chest. Oh god, why was I nervous?

These strange nerves wouldn't seem to leave me even as Rachel and I hurried out of our apartment building and hailed a taxi on the side of the street. I mindlessly followed and nodded and pretended to be engaged in conversation while she prattled on about her day at rehearsal. I honestly tried to listen, but my head was swimming with fears and worries about tonight-perhaps Rachel was right about the safe word. I just kept picturing that devilishly handsome smile on Blaine's face... His perfectly unkempt curls and his arm wrapped tightly around another man.

It's normal, isn't it? It's normal to dwell on your first great love. My _only_ great love, really. Besides, it's merely the _memory_ of Blaine that I'm clinging so desperately to-it must be. He's a different person now and so am I. My foolishness needed to stop. And it did. The moment we pulled up in front of the restaurant, my heart twisted so tightly inside my chest that it was practically numb.

Rachel thanked and paid the taxi driver while I stumbled idiotically out the door, glancing around as if I were being hunted down. The cab drove off and her slender arm was hooked with my own in an instant. "Remember... _Prada_," She whispered in my ear as we walked through the front doors of 44th and 10th.

"Rachel," I scolded just as the sounds of murmured conversation and clinking silverware filled our ears. The hostess was busy with another party, but it was all for the best because as soon as we stepped forward, the familiar grin of Blaine was walking toward us across the dimly lit restaurant. My heart stuttered.

"Hey, guys!" Blaine greeted with just as much energy as he always had. He went to Rachel first-always the gentleman-and pulled her into a hug, kissing her quickly on the cheek. "Rachel, it's been so long. You look great!"

Rachel beamed. "Thank you, Blaine. It's so nice to see you again."

And then Blaine turned to me. His eyes were sparkling and his arms were open wide. A wide, dopey smile was still undoubtedly plastered on my face when I returned the embrace. "Hey, you," He said as his chin rested on my shoulder.

"Hello," I said back. Not the kind of suave or collected response I would have preferred, but I'll take it.

"We'll catch up over dinner," Blaine assured us, removing himself from my body, leaving me slightly punch drunk. "But first you have to meet Malory."

I don't exactly know why my expression dropped at the mention of Blaine's fiancé. I'm sure he was a perfectly wonderful gentleman-someone Blaine would be thrilled to spend the rest of his life with. Honestly, that was the very same reason why I was dreading it. What if he _was_ perfect? What if he was filthy rich and shockingly resembled a Greek god? I spent the next few minutes following Blaine and Rachel to our table and mentally preparing a list of possible flaws this man could have, but we arrived at our destination before I knew it.

"Mal, these are my friends, Rachel and Kurt," Blaine motioned to us excitedly. "Rachel and Kurt, this is my fiancé, Malory Willington."

The man who stood from the table to greet us was stunning. His skin was the perfect balance of ivory and tan-not ghostly pale like myself. He had striking green eyes lined with long, luxurious lashes and thin pink lips that curled upward into a smile full of dimples. His face was sharp and defined-chiseled, even-but soft enough to pass as some kind of diplomat or royal heir. A styled mess of tousled golden hair rested on top of his head, a few stray pieces dangling down just above his neatly trimmed eyebrows.

Oh, dear god. Malory was a blond, six-foot-tall Adonis.

"Nice to meet you both," Malory's voice purred. "I've heard plenty from this cutie."

Malory snaked an arm around Blaine's waist, pulling him close to his side while he chuckled happily. The blond placed a kiss on Blaine's forehead just as Rachel pinched my arm. I shot her a glare.

"Shall we sit?" Rachel suggested with a bit too much sweetness. It broke the ice for a while. Malory _finally_ retracted his arm from Blaine and I slid into my seat beside Rachel-a fine display of pre-marital PDA right before my very eyes.

After a while, the conversation, laughter, and wine were flowing among us. Turns out Rachel and Malory got along very well-I couldn't tell if it was due to their seemingly similar ambitious personalities or the fact that Rachel may have already had one glass of Merlot too many. Regardless, the two of them chatted animatedly about Sutton Foster's closing night performance of _Anything Goes_ on Broadway while Blaine leaned an elbow on the table, watching with an elated grin. I, however, brooded in my seat-sipping idly at my wine and staring at the tablecloth with unfocused eyes.

It wasn't that I wasn't enjoying myself. I was thrilled to catch up on four years worth of lifetime with Blaine. Even Malory seemed like a very nice person. And there was never a dull moment whenever Rachel let herself get a little tipsy. The company was surely not the problem. It is... Well. I don't quite know. Perhaps it was the way Malory and Blaine kept winding their fingers together under the table. Or the way the blond Adonis would lean over every now and then to press a kiss on Blaine's temple.

Or perhaps it was just the wine.

I was pulled from my thoughts when I felt a gentle kick to my shin. My first instinct was to glance at Rachel, but she was still engrossed in conversation. Then I felt Blaine's honey eyes boring a hole through my head from across the table so I looked up to meet his persistent gaze. His eyebrows were pulled together in the subtlest display of concern as he mouthed a simple, _You okay?_

Even after all this time, it seemed that Blaine Anderson still had the uncanny ability to read me like an open book. Usually I was thankful for such a remarkable skill, but I really didn't feel like getting into it now in front of Rachel and Malory, of all people. So I nodded my head and sipped at my wine again. Blaine pretended to pout and flashed me a quick smile before turning his attention back to Malory who was now dragging him into the conversation.

"Blaine and I were planning on something modest," Malory explained to Rachel, his fingers casually trailing down the length of Blaine's arm. "Nothing too flashy."

There was a brief flicker of confusion on Blaine's face until he realized what they had been discussing. "The wedding, right. Yeah, we decided not to make it a huge spectacle."

Rachel sighed dreamily and leaned her elbows on the table. "Finn and I are going to be married, too... Soon. He just needs to propose..."

"When is the big day?" I asked over my glass. My eyes darted back and forth between Blaine and Malory who both looked at each other expectantly.

"May 20th," Malory answered. "Right after Blaine's graduation."

My eyes widened instinctively. It was already the beginning of March. As someone who had been planning imaginary weddings since the age of eight, I was certain that two months was a rush job.

"So soon," I commented offhandedly, pouring myself just a bit more to drink. "Any particular reason for such a last minute ceremony?"

I suppose my tone came off a bit more judgmental than curious because I suddenly felt three pairs of slightly stunned eyes latch themselves onto me. I blame the wine.

Malory smiled. "I just decided that-"

"_You_ decided?" I blinked at Malory's perfect smirking face. "Doesn't Blaine get a say in his own marriage?"

"Of course he does-"

"Then I'm sure it was _his_ decision alone to move to New York?" I countered. _What was I doing? Stop now._

Rachel gently touched my shoulder. "Kurt..."

"I wanted to,"

Finally, the attention was taken off of me by a small yet unyielding voice that matched the uncomfortable look on Blaine's face. He turned to Malory and nodded his head. "I did... I wanted to."

There was silence at the table-unnerving and mind-grating silence. I gingerly lifted the wine bottle and poured the last of it into my glass.

"More wine anyone?"

* * *

The remainder of the dinner passed with polite conversation and little mention of wedding plans. I knew it was my fault for the newfound awkwardness and the way Blaine avoided eye contact with me for the rest of the night didn't go unnoticed. By the time we were leaving the restaurant, Rachel clung to a poor, defenseless Malory, lamenting her trials and tribulations over Finn's reluctance to wed.

Which left Blaine and I.

At first there was silence between us as we strolled casually down the street, every now and then giggling softly over something we overheard Rachel say to Malory from behind us.

"You seemed a little agitated back there," Blaine spoke up, eyes cast downward.

I sighed. "I should never be allowed to consume alcohol."

"I don't think that was it, Kurt," Blaine began slowly. "Look, I know it sounds like I was cornered into all of this and-honestly-if I had my way, I wouldn't have moved."

I looked at him, perplexed. "But you said..."

"I know," He breathed out, shaking his head as his eyes studied the ground. "I... Marriage is all about compromise, Kurt."

I attempted to stifle my scoff. "Where's the compromise in this? It seems pretty black or white to me."

Finally, Blaine tore his gaze off the ground and looked straight into my eyes, honey meeting cerulean. "I love him. Isn't that enough?"

It would be so easy to blame the wine again like I did for all my other faux pas over the course of the evening. But, this time, it wasn't the alcohol coursing through my veins. This was pure instinct-the kind of instinct I developed over the course of my relationship with Blaine. I could read him almost as well as he could read me. And there was something in his words-a certain tone, perhaps-that sounded so _trapped_.

"It should be," I answered, offering a small smile. Just as the corners of Blaine's lips were beginning to lift, a hysterical and snorting Rachel Berry laugh caught our attention. She came bounding up to us with Malory still in tow, grinning wide and giggling under her breath.

"Malory is so _hilarious_, Kurt," Rachel told me, clinging to my arm and letting Malory retreat to safety. "We didn't even need our safe word tonight!"

Blaine quirked a brow. "Safe word?"

"We should get going!" I announced, raising my hand to hail an oncoming cab. The yellow taxi came to a screeching halt by the curbside while I turned back to Blaine and Malory.

"I missed you so much!" Rachel cooed, grabbing either side of Blaine's face and quickly pressing her lips to his. "Let's keep in touch!" With that, she barreled into the cab, leaving a blushing Blaine.

"Malory, it was a pleasure," I grinned politely and held out my hand to shake his own.

"Of course," He responded easily, a forced smile stretching across his stupid-perfect face.

I faced Blaine. "Goodbye, Bl-"

His arms wrapped around me tight and I was spellbound once again. We could both sense Malory's apprehension, but Blaine lingered by my ear long enough to whisper, "I'll call you."

I gave them both a final wave before disappearing inside the cab. I watched the couple walk down the street, hands clasped and shoulders brushing together. My heart twisted strangely.

I slid down in my seat, letting Rachel lean her head on my shoulder and sing into my ear for the rest of the drive home.


End file.
